Magic Tricks
by cloud cult
Summary: The untold story about the girl who worked in the paper shop in Ottery St. Catchpole, and her brief relationship with George Weasley. One-shot.


**A/N: Eh, so I'm not really sure how I feel about this. I'm posting it pretty late though, so I guess I can just edit it later if anything's really messed up. :P I came up with the idea of this one-shot because of the part in HBP when George talks about the girl who works at the paper shop that seems to think his card tricks are "magic". **

**Anyway, please tell me what you think, constructive criticism is welcome as well! And thank you for reading! :)**

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

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><p>I met George Weasley when I was out of school for the Christmas holiday. Desperate to get away from my family (my parents were acting psycho as usual, plus my brother and his annoying girlfriend were coming to stay for Christmas), and have a little peace in my day, I got a job working at the paper shop in the village.<p>

Despite being one of the only shops in the village, the poor shop didn't get many customers that day, and so I was reduced to staring out the window at the fresh snow, wondering if this job had been a good idea in the first place.

The sound of the bell attached to the front door snapped me out of my thoughts, and two identical boys about my age stepped through the door. I recognized them, but their names slipped my mind. We had played some as children, but then... I couldn't remember, it must have been so far back. Nevertheless, they rarely came into the village, and even when they did we never really talked. I never saw them at school either, so I always assumed they were home schooled, although they had such a large family.

They ordered some stationary, but that was really just a blur to me - what they bought, what they said. What I do remember most clearly are the card tricks.

"Can I ask why you're working so close to the holidays?" George asked me. They both seemed rather talkative, and I guessed that they were as bored as I was.

"I can assure you, this is better than at home." I said dryly.

"Maybe I can make it better for you." He said, and pulled out a deck of cards.

He then proceeded to do a series of magic tricks better than I'd ever seen before. It wasn't long until he had me laughing, my boredom completely erased.

"That's brilliant!" I said grinning, probably looking silly - my brother Michael never ceased to point out how goofy I looked when I smiled.

He came back another time, and then another without his brother. It was nice to have a break from the lobotomy of my job, and George was the one to fix it. I formed a crush on him against my consent, probably looking even sillier when he came by.

We went out once. Only once, and I'll never forget it. He took me out one night before the holiday's were over - it was snowing lightly, and we went to one of the small restaurants around our little village. I ordered hot chocolate that night, and I couldn't stop smiling. It was the first time he actually opened up to me, about the trouble going on with his family (the estranged brother who he was quick to call a git, plus his brother getting engaged). In return, I told him about how my parents were constantly fighting, and my brother's girlfriend had asked me if I intentionally dressed like a boy the other day.

All-in-all, it was nice.

I didn't see him much after that. I didn't see him at all, in fact. It was like his family moved away, their house for the first time in years empty. Still, I had hope that one day George would come back, and it would be like those few weeks in the winter.

More time passed, almost a year, and I quit my job at the paper shop, choosing to focus more on school so I could get out of the village and move to London. Study harder and become a nurse. Anything to avoid living there forever. I thought less and less of George, until he was a distant memory in my mind.

It wasn't until I was living in London, in my tiny flat, that I saw him again. We hardly recognized each other, and it was then that I was informed of Fred's death. He told me he owned a joke shop now, and it was doing well. I murmured some words of comfort about Fred, and congratulated him on his successes. He did the same for me, seeing as how I was doing well, and then we stood awkwardly until I excused myself, already being late to meet some friends.

Before I left, I asked him if he remembered the card tricks. The ones I spent hours wondering how he accomplished them.

To that, he winked and said, "Magic."

I believed him.


End file.
